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English
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JB Festive Festival Exchange 2020
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Published:
2020-12-31
Completed:
2020-12-31
Words:
2,780
Chapters:
2/2
Comments:
20
Kudos:
137
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6
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912

Shirt Happens

Summary:

A Lannister knows a properly fitted shirt when he sees one. Brienne's white button-down dress shirt ... is lacking.

Notes:

Chapter Text

Jaime leaned against the brickwork at the front of the gym, and pretended to be fascinated by his phone.  He really was not good at waiting, and it was terribly unfair of Brienne to make him wait.  Except, of course, he hadn’t told her he was waiting.  (he had a sneaking suspicion that sometimes she went out of her way to avoid him.)

There she was, only seventeen minutes late!  The wind was pushing her blond hair around, and she clicked across the pavement on short heels.  Her sleek, dark skirt and white shirt were a bit more formal than he was used to seeing her, but the beat-up pink gym bag was her usual.

“Jaime?”  She frowned at him.  “Were you waiting for me?”

“No, no.”  He shrugged.  “I was just checking my messages.”

“The project wrap-up meeting went over.”  She made a fist.  “I’m tired of talking, I want to hit something.”  

Jaime couldn’t take his eyes off the pale, freckled skin below her cuff.  The sleeve was pulling it up and away, exposing the shape of the bones in her wrist.

Brienne shouldered her way through the door, and Jaime wondered how unfair it was that she worked hard on her own fitness, but all the shops in Kings’ Landing couldn’t find her a shirt that fit.  Even Tyrion owned shirts that fit him.

Then Jaime remembered where his brother shopped.

***

Breinne was banging cupboard doors in the kitchen.  All those bags of healthy groceries needed to get put away right now, obviously.

Jaime knew he had a few minutes, but only a few minutes.  He ducked into her bedroom, and flung open the wardrobe.  He slid hangers along the bar until he found it...that one button-down white shirt, all the way on the far right.  Soon it was rolled into a tight bundle, and hidden in the bottom of his shopping bag, under the emergency coffee for Jaime’s kitchen.

Jaime felt vaguely guilty about stealing Brienne’s one nice shirt that mostly fitted her, but he had a plan.

***

The tailor’s shop opened at 8:00 the next morning, and he was there with the pilfered shirt.  The brick storefront was the most traditional on a street of very traditional and old-fashioned shops.  Gold script on the window proclaimed:

Varys and Varys Tailoring

Fine Custom Shirts

...for anyone who couldn’t figure out that the three manikins in the window were wearing very fine shirts indeed.

Jaime grasped the polished brass handle and opened the dark, heavy wooden door.  The inside was decorated with scenes of nature and horsemanship, and more shirt-wearing manikins.  As usual, the owner lurked behind the dark wooden counter.

“Mr. Lannister!  How can I help you?”  (Mr. Varys made a point of greeting all his customers by name, and Jaime had ordered some very fancy dress shirts a couple of months ago.)

“I have a rush order for you.”  Jaime shook out the crumpled shirt and presented it to the tailor.  “I need a shirt like this, only with an extra 4 cm of sleeve length.”

“The fit will be best if I measure you, sir.”   Mr. Varys’ thick fingers mounted a pre-printed order form on a clipboard.

“It’s not for me.  I -uh- borrowed a friend’s shirt.”  Jaime wondered if Varys would remember this story for the rest of Jaime’s life.

There was a short pause, while the shopkeeper glanced at the label and rubbed a fold of the material between his fingers.  The man blinked, as if he were considering a large lizard blocking a sidewalk.  Perhaps he did not approve?  (Where did Brienne shop, anyway?)

“Certainly, sir. I can take the measurements from the garment.”  There was a long pause, as Mr. Varys pressed his palms together.  “However, we will get a better fit if we can measure the person.  How tall is your friend?”

“Taller than me.”  Jaime set his phone down, and scrolled through for a photo.  The screen lit with a sculpture of a giant bear on its hind legs.  Brienne, in shorts and a tank top, reached up to pat the bear’s nose.

“Bear Pit, right?”  The tailor squinted through his reading glasses, and made a few notes on the order form.  “I’m going to suggest making the body of the shirt longer as well, to make sure it stays tucked in.”

“She thought the giant, snarling animal was cute.”  Jaime realized he was smiling to himself, and also getting off the subject.  He put the phone back in his pocket.

Mr. Varys blinked, several times.  “Now, about the garment.”  The man lifted a heavy binder, and opened it to show squares of fabric, pasted onto thick pages.  “What collar style did you have in mind, and what material?”

“Blue,” said Jaime.  He brushed his fingers across the pale, smooth, luxurious fabric samples. 

There were a lot of different shades of blue.  The fabrics ranged from slightly textured weaves in solids or stripes, to smooth, glossy fabrics in rich shades.  Then he turned another page, and got distracted by the plaids.

“What about the collar shapes?”  The tailor opened another book.  “Ladies are less tied to the traditional ones, and someone with her strong features could wear something very dramatic.” 

There were a lot of different collar choices.   How was he supposed to choose just one?

...and then there was the question of cuffs.   Narrow cuffs, wide cuffs with lots of buttons, French cuffs... at which point, Mr. Varys pulled out boxes of buttons -- bone, plastic, real shell, or smooth metal.

Two hours later, Mr. Varys collected a pile of paper with scribbled notes.  Jaime slid his credit card across the counter, listened to the electronic noises of the card scanner, and returned the plastic to his wallet along with the receipt.  

“Thank you for your business, Mr. Lannister.  We will have that ready for pickup on Friday.”  The man's head gleamed benevolently in the light.

Jaime was back out the door with a smile on his face. His tailor was absolutely the best, no question about it.